


Anything for That Ass

by Saraste



Series: Season of Kink 2019 Bingo Card - X [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Play, Bingo, Established Relationship, I REGRET NOTHING, M/M, Off-brand uses of ice pops, Safe Sane and Consensual, Season of Kink 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 11:40:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20834852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: Derek loves having his ass played with and Stiles is more than happy to oblige, even when he might ask something strange.





	Anything for That Ass

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my [Season of Kink 2019 Bingo card](https://saraste.dreamwidth.org/), for the square "Anal Play."
> 
> Beta'd by the incomparable [katajainen.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katajainen/profile)

Derek really, really likes having his butt played with. Like, really. He forgets himself completely and is so uninhibitedly enjoying himself that it’s an absolute fucking joy to watch him come undone, to trust someone so completely that Derek will let almost anything be done to his butt. It still often boggles Stiles that Derek’s trusting him with it, if he’s being completely honest with himself.

*

‘You want _what _up your butt?’ Stiles had asked on a swelteringly hot summer’s day when they’d been laying outside in the sun, baking alive.

Derek had looked away almost shyly, and his ability to do that when he looked like he did was a continued wonder to Stiles, and had said, ‘I’d like a popsicle up my butt,’ like that was something you just said to your soon-to-be-husband.

‘Is that hygienic?’ Stiles had asked, not knowing what else to say. After he’d been done choking on his own saliva. He was fine putting things up Derek’s butt and making him feel good, but there was a limit and he might have found his own right then.

Derek had just looked at him. ‘I’m an alpha.’

‘Right, who cares about hygiene with super-healing, got it. Yes, do shove a yummy sugary treat up my butt, what do I care about it being bad for my mucosa.’

‘Stiles…’

‘Fine, I’ll do it! Why do I care if you get an infection or something? I’m just your almost-spouse!’

Derek had then stopped the flailing of his limbs with bodily restraining Stiles and looking down at him. ‘Did you ever think I might just want to freeze my own popsicle? With water? Which is completely safe?’

‘Oh,’ was all Stiles had thought to say before Derek had kissed him and they had gotten utterly distracted and given most of the Pack an eyeful half an hour later.

*

And here they are now, in their bedroom in the lovely big house which often enough houses many of the Pack during of the summer. But now they’re alone and free to indulge, because everyone else has gone to the beach. With knowing smirks and cat-calls aimed at both of them. Because they know, _of course _they know. It’s impossible to keep secrets in a wolf-pack.

Derek is stretched over the bed, every inch of him gloriously naked and already covered with a slight sheen of sweat, because the AC is broken again and it’s almost as hot inside as it’s outside. The window is open and there is a light breeze coming in but it’s not enough by a long shot. And they’re about to get even hotter.

There’s an ice-box by the bed, red with white accents, holding several homemade popsicles. Stiles had meticulously bought a set with which he made popsicles for eating and kept the one’s which were for “bedroom purposes” separate on principle, even when it was a bit silly.

‘Stiles?’

And yes, Stiles had actually forgotten all about Derek, waiting for him, on the bed, and gone woolgathering. Stiles shook his head. “Sorry, was distracted.”

“Stiles, all consent or no consent?”

“Yeah, I know, all consent. It’s just…”

“What, Stiles?”

“It feels a bit weird.”

“How much a bit weird?”

“Like I’ll never be able to look at an ice pop the same way ever again.” Stiles blushes a bright shade of red.

“But it doesn’t turn you completely off,” Derek says with a smirk in his voice, not so subtly glancing down at Stiles’ crotch. That goddamned smirk!

“Put that werewolfy nose of yours where it belongs, which is out of other people’s business. Of course, I’m hard! You’re naked and were’ about to have sex! Weird sex, but still, _sex_.”

Derek laughs and flexes his body on the bed in all the unfair ways which show off his assets to their best advantage, before he settles to wait. Stiles whimpers and then thanks whomever might be listening for the gift that is Derek.

Stiles sits down on the bed and drinks in the sight of Derek, propped up on pillows, his big muscly thighs spread open, his puckered hole waiting for Stiles to fill it. He whimpers. Again. He’s allowed.

“You’ll need to relax me first,” Derek offers, as far away from innocent as one can get.

“Oh, do I?” Stiles’ dick twitches and even if Derek wasn’t a werewolf and able to sniff it on him, he’d know Stiles is into that, at least, because Stiles is as naked as Derek, if not quite so pretty or built. (Derek, of course, says otherwise, but Stiles and his body-insecurities are old acquaintances and Stiles thinks Derek will need to convince him for a few more years that his bod is hot, okay?) “_What_ a hardship.”

Derek doesn’t move a muscle to indicate he’ll roll over and Stiles grins, it’s a little trickier, to be sure, like this, but he’ll get to see Derek’s rapturous face as he makes sure Derek’s hole is nice and loose and lovingly attended to.

Stiles settles over the bedspread, between Derek’s so wantonly spread thighs, he knows that Derek will end up digging one of his heels into his back, sooner rather than later, but doesn’t mind at all, because he always makes such lovely noises when he does that, throwing himself into it, opening to the pleasure and _sinking_, surrendering himself to Stiles, who sometimes comes untouched just at the sight and sound of him, the utter abandon of his pleasure and the desperate ragged cries of Derek’s climax when he comes just from having his asshole played with.

Such a hardship.

Derek shifts and pulls his legs up, strong hands on his thighs. His butt is angled up by a pillow under his hips, but Stiles still needs to lie on his side to reach. It puts his face right at Derek’s ass, the surprisingly round cheeks of it, which he pulls apart and keeps open with a palmful of supple flesh in each hand, revealing the puckered hole that’s just begging to be kissed.

Stiles does.

He presses his lips to it in a close-mouthed kiss, almost innocent but for where he’s kissing, and earns himself a reverent “Fuck!” from Derek. He grins. The next kiss is a little more open mouthed and he breathes at the twitching ring of muscle when he’s done. There’s not a word of complaint from above, nor a curse and Stiles continues the slow sweet torture, pressing a few more innocent-but-not pecks at Derek’s sphincter until he licks a slow deliberate swipe over the twitching muscle.

Derek’s moans and Stiles feels his body tense up in his grasp until it goes pliant again with a shudder. “Fuck, your mouth!”

“What should I do with it?” Stiles asks, licking a vertical stripe across Derek’s hole, “Should I fuck you with my tongue?” He presses but doesn’t quite penetrate with just the tip and Derek keens. “Would you like that, Derek? Would it make you wild? Or should I put my fingers in, keep you open and tease the rim of your hole until you can’t even remember who you are and all you can say is my name?”

Derek’s big thighs are trembling and he gasps as Stiles nuzzles at his hole, before pressing a wet kiss over it. “Everything, do everything…” There’s no finesse nor shame in begging when you’re both of a like mind. Stiles wishes he’d thought to put on a cock-ring because he knows he won’t last, almost just came from Derek’s responses, he’s so _sensitive_. He never responds quite like this to his dick being played with and Stiles abso-fucking-lutely loves it.

“Do you need to be on your stomach?” Stiles asks, distractedly moving one hand so his dry thumb can flick over Derek’s hole, making it twitch and Derek gasp.

“Nghhh… ohhh…. I’m good,” Derek assures him, but he does put his legs down, spreading them and shifting his hips a bit. Stiles glances up at him, at the lovely blush on his face and his pleasure-drunk eyes. Yeah, he’s in way over his head with Derek and it’s fucking awesome, especially since he’ll be the only one ever who’ll get to see Derek like this.

“Yeah? Yeah. Good. Perfect,” Stiles babbles, and has to actually honestly _sigh_ in admiration at the perfection spread before him, all of Derek, but especially his pretty, bubbly ass. He grabs a handful of cheek in each hand and spreads him again so he can better see his hole, shining wet and pink from where he’s already played with it. The lube is right at arm’s reach, he could… “You want fingers next, or should I kiss you some more?”

Derek groans and his hole actually flutters open a little, like he just _can’t_. “Mouth.”

“You shouldn’t be able to form words at this point,” Stiles tells him before he brings his mouth on him, now going for wet and sloppy and completely and utterly indecently debauched.

“Ahh… then… do something... about it!”

Stiles licks the ring of muscle over and over, feels it twitch under his tongue, feels the ass in his hands tremble and Derek reduced to panting whimpers and pleas of “yes”, “Stiles” and “please put it in.” He brings his fingers closer to the rim and presses at the sensitive skin, works one fingertip in and hums. Derek’s body opens up to him and lets him in and Derek does shit and grinds his heel into Stiles’ back, chanting “fuck, fuck, fucccckkk!”

He licks at Derek’s rim, so pliant and accepting under his tongue, pressing sloppy wet kisses over the twitching muscle, he spits and presses with one thumb, pressing it just in, spit-slick, but Derek’s body just fucking _takes _it.

“Need more lube, need…”

Derek makes an awful bereft sound when Stiles lets go of his ass, pours a generous helping of lube into Derek’s crack and over his fingers, spilling over the fucking duvet, but who cares, his grip slipping when he once more has a hold of a handful of beautiful perfect ass in both palms. The first finger slips in, easy as anything, slick and slippery and Derek keens when Stiles puts his mouth there too.

Derek comes when Stiles has him stretched on two scissoring fingers and is tonguing at his rim, just like he promised.

Stiles doesn’t overwhelm him, then, push him to his limit by just going on, stretching and teasing until Derek’s a fucked-out mess. He presses a kiss to the rim, but leaves his fingers in, Derek squeezes around them and makes a dissatisfied noise.

“Alright, I’ll put in a third, don’t worry…” Stiles reassures him, doing just that, and he should have put a cock-ring on himself because this is too much, the glorious wreck of Derek… and they haven’t even started.

Derek’s moving restlessly, pushing against his fingers, fucking them on them, whimpering a little when Stiles gives in to the temptation to lick him clean until he’s keening with it, over-sensitive and trembling.

The hole around Stiles’ slicked fingers flutters and gapes, drawing him in, needy and hungry.

“You want it now?” Stiles asks, panting. “The ice?” The clenching around his fingers is answer enough, but he needs more. “Use your words.”

“Yesss…” Derek gasps. “Put it… put it in…”

And here’s the first problem. The ice box is beside the bed, there’s no way Stiles is reaching it with his fingers still inside. He swallows. “I’ll get them, just…” Derek’s body clings to him as he withdraws his fingers, and Derek grumbles.

When Stiles turns, it’s to Derek holding himself open, gaping, with his own fingers. He lets the ice pops spill over the readied towel and swears, quickly grabbing the base of his dick to keep from coming. “Fuck, Derek! Do you want to be stuffed, or not?”

Derek grins that shit-eating grin of his, his eyes are lust-bright, his body perfect and his ass open and hungry and waiting. Stiles whimpers. “Stuff away,” Derek says, breathless, and growls in that way that sends jolts of arousal right to Stiles’ dick.

There’s no helping it, he has to put his mouth on Derek, worrying at his rim and nipping at the fingers Derek’s still keeping there, holding himself open. He slips two fingers back in, then the third, thrusting until Derek’s moaning with it, thighs trembling.

The ice has melted a little in the heat but it’s still cold. It leaves a wet trail on Derek’s thigh as Stiles trails it from his knee towards his groin.

“Fucking put it in, fuck, Stiles!” Derek’s never not eloquent, such a way with words really, he has.

Stiles slides the ice pop in where Derek is open and gaping, right along where three fingers are stretching him open, making his rim look lovely and used, well-played with, like it is, but Derek’s ass will take even more.

Derek moans, low and guttural, “Oh FUCK, that… fuck… Stiles!”

Stiles slides it out and then back in again, goes for a slow rhythm, the noises the ice pop makes are obscene, so wet and squelching, he loves it. The feeling against his fingers is cool, not cold. Derek is a gasping mess, now, and desperate for it.

“Do you like it?” Stiles croons rather unnecessarily as it’s clear that Derek does, very, very much.

“Stiles, oh fuck... more?”

Stiles pushes the ice in his hand in as far as Derek takes it, it makes Derek’s spine bow and head hit the pillow and his ass clenches. “You want another? Want me to fuck you with them?” He curls his fingers against Derek’s prostate and he sobs. “Could I put my dick in, too, what do you think? Have you all loose and wet and squelching for me, cool me down?” Stiles’ dick _throbs _at the idea and he bites his lip. He’s close to coming right then.

Derek pushes against his hands. “Please… fill… please....”

Oh-fucking-yeah, he’s got Derek’s number all right, has him right where he wants him and will give him everything he needs.

And he does squelch and feel cool when Stiles puts his dick in to replace his fingers, the ice pops are half-melted and crumbling, and it’s strange and shouldn’t be arousing, maybe, but it is. He lasts only a few indecently squelching thrusts into Derek’s well-stuffed hole until he comes.

Derek snarls, then, flipping him over to his back and riding his own orgasm out of him, Stiles is glad he took his fingers out and that he didn’t put sticks on the ice pops.

The orgasm is a roar that seems to shake the roof, and Stiles decides he’ll go along with any of Derek’s requests, always.

_Anything_ for that ass.


End file.
